


A Promise Kept

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-21
Updated: 2006-07-21
Packaged: 2018-10-26 06:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10781829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: Ten years ago, Dennis made a promise to Hermione that he now intends to keep





	A Promise Kept

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: For [](http://cunning-croft.livejournal.com/profile)[**cunning_croft**](http://cunning-croft.livejournal.com/)'s request and because I've been promising her this pairing for forever and a day. I hope you enjoy this one, love! *hugs*  


* * *

Today was the day he was _finally_ going to make love to the woman he’d fancied since he was thirteen. It had taken him a dozen years to get to this point, but Dennis had always been tenacious and stubborn, especially when there was something he really wanted, so he‘d waited without even realizing he _was_ waiting for her. He’d wanted Hermione Granger even before he actually knew what _wanting_ meant. It had been hopeless, of course. He’d been a third year, scrawny and short, and she’d been a beautiful young woman of seventeen, a sixth year who treated him like a sweet boy, never seeing the crush he had on her during her remaining two years of school.

It _had_ been a crush. Feelings he didn’t quite understand at the time, thoughts of her suddenly turning a gorgeous smile on him and defying everyone by admitting she fancied him and didn’t care that he was short, thin, and almost four years younger. It had felt like he’d been hit with a dozen hexes when he’d caught her snogging Weasley, his heart breaking into a million pieces as she smiled _that_ smile at a rude, obnoxious, brainless oaf who didn’t deserve her, wouldn’t worship her the way he would. It hadn’t taken long before she’d realized what he’d known all along, and he had to admit he’d feel rather smug knowing she and Weasley wouldn’t last despite being young and rather naïve about such things.

After she left Hogwarts, he’d not forgotten her, but he’d grown up, decided it was just a first crush, an infatuation with a girl who had always treated him kindly, listening to him, a brilliant and beautiful woman who was amazing and special and talented and so many other wonderful things that he hadn’t been able to help fancying her, even if he‘d wanted. He’d tried having relationships with other girls, but none of those had worked out. He was always comparing them to his ideal, to his Hermione, and they never quite measured up.

Looking back now, he had to admit he might have more in common with Colin than he’d ever want to admit. Colin had been obsessed with the Boy Who Lived while he, well, he’d been obsessed with the best friend of the Boy Who Lived. He could acknowledge that obsessed fit his behavior during his third and fourth years. He knew her schedule by heart. He knew the days she’d walk alone by the lake, lost in thoughts of her parents and War and studies.

He knew she preferred her tea with a drop of lemon and, when she was indulging herself, two drops of honey. He knew she bit her fingernails when she was studying or lost in thought. He knew things that no one else had ever noticed because people tended to not really pay attention to her for some reason. Even Weasley with his immature bickering to get her attention hadn’t known that she often sat beneath a willow tree and cried silent tears for whatever thoughts plagued her mind at the time.

In a way, he was glad she hadn’t really noticed his attention back then because he’d been a bit of a scary freak. He’d been young, confused, and had just felt so many things for her that he’d not known what to do besides watch and learn. He’d tried flirting with her, but she’d just laughed and ruffled his hair, telling him with a sweet smile that some girl was going to be very lucky when he was older. He’d known then it was hopeless. She would never see him as anything except little Dennis Creevey.

Her last day at school, before she was going off to help Potter fight a War that he was too young to help win, he’d found her beneath the willow and he’d told her he loved her. When she’d been gaping at him, clearly stunned by his earnest proclamation, he’d kissed her. It hadn’t even lasted a minute and he’d fumbled and his lips hadn’t quite hit hers, but it was his first kiss and it had been perfect.

Before she’d had a chance to reply to his declaration, he’d told her with all the confidence of a somewhat brash fifteen year-old that he was going to find her in a few years, when he was older and he knew it was the right time. He told her that he’d make her as happy as she deserved to be, sincerely telling her he planned to worship her and love her, if she’d let him. He’d smiled, feeling much better after telling her his feelings and declaring his intentions, and kissed her swiftly once more, the second kiss a bit more accurate, before walking back to the school. She’d never said anything about his vow, giving him a brief hug and kiss on the cheek before leaving Hogwarts.

It had taken him nine years to make good on that promise. After a couple of years, he’d started to wonder if it had just been infatuation. He’d dated, shagged, grown up, and somewhat moved on. Yet she’d always been lurking in the corner of his mind. As he got older, he realized just what a scary little horror he must have been, stalking her and snogging her without permission. It was a shock she’d not hexed him silly.

It had been six months ago, nearly a decade after he’d made that declaration, before he’d run into her again. He’d somewhat kept up with her; she’d been his first love, first crush, first kiss, after all. He knew she was still single, had heard Colin mention that Harry and Ron weren’t sure she’d ever stop working long enough to find love, and he’d ignored the stirrings of boyish desire that had him tempted to find her and see what might happen between them now, when age was just a number and he was no longer the scrawny little pest who wouldn’t leave her in peace.

Fate was such a funny thing. He’d been shopping in Muggle London, wanting to find something unique for his brother’s Christmas present, and he’d caught sight of unruly brown curls that had looked like the perfect mixture of toffee and honey. In an instant, he’d know it was her even without seeing her face. He’d wanked many times thinking about that hair being spread out over his pillow and her crying his name as she came over and over when he was younger so he recognized it anywhere.

When she’d turned to look at another shelf, he’d felt the same stirrings only they’d been the desire and lust of a not quite twenty-five year-old man and not a silly little boy. She’d blushed when he’d approached her, knowing him just as he’d known her, despite the changes ten years had wrought. She was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, her heart and intelligence just adding to the natural beauty that was constantly overlooked. He’d asked her to go get coffee or tea, smiling what he’d hoped was a charming ‘I’m not an obsessive little wanker anymore’ smile, and she’d surprisingly agreed. Coffee had led to dinner and dinner had led to a friendship that had slowly grown into something more.

They weren’t the same people they’d been. He was taller, a bit more filled out, quietly confident and not so brazen and obnoxious. She’d seen the horrors of war personally, shadows haunting the corners of her eyes, and it didn’t matter that Voldemort had been dead for eight years, she still thought about what she’d seen and what she’d done because she wasn’t the type to just forget killing even during battle. He’d had a crush on a friendly, caring, pretty girl with caramel curls who made him feel special because she listened when he spoke and had the prettiest smile he‘d ever seen. However, he’d fallen in love with a caring, gentle, jaded woman with haunted eyes and caramel curls who made him feel special because she let him past the walls she’d built around her heart.

It had taken him a dozen years to get here, his path to where he truly belonged crooked and meandering, but he knew now that it was time. She knew, too. Lying on the blanket before him, their picnic lunch forgotten as his hands tenderly caressed her body, her eyes not leaving his face. His brown hair fell across his forehead as he moved closer, his actions fumbling, hesitant. It wasn’t his first time by any means but it was _their_ first time and he was scared and excited and it felt like everything was new again.

She tasted of lemonade, cheese, and Hermione, his tongue tentatively deepening the kiss, wanting everything to be perfect for her. This was their beginning, a start to the future he’d promised her a decade ago, a promise he’d never imagined being fortunate enough to keep. Their clothes were removed, tossed on the grass around their blanket, bodies fitting together so well. He worshipped her with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his body. His eyes on her face as she shattered around him, his tongue continuing to tease until her fingers were tugging on his hair, urging him up and into her.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, his voice that of a man who knew what he was lucky enough to have and not that of a silly boy with a crush. Her face was flushed, sweaty, lips red from his kisses, her eyes glazed, quiet moans and whimpers accompanying his first thrust. She was so wet, warm, tight, and he blushed as he spilled into her after a half-dozen strokes. Burying his face against her neck, he kissed and sucked her skin, wanting anyone who saw her to know she’d given herself to him, that he was hers, his hips still rocking against her, wanting to please her, to make up for his lack of control. He muttered an apology for not lasting longer against her throat, her hands tracing the lines of his back as she moved against him, her voice soft in his ear as she told him it was okay.

He knew she understood, knew she was aware that next time he’d last longer and he’d make her moan and scream. It had been too much, finally having the woman he loved beneath him, and now he was more determined to make it good for her since he’d ruined the perfect with his premature release. His hands moved between them, finding her wet and tense, rubbing and squeezing, nibbling on her ear as his chest moved against her breasts.

When Dennis felt her starting to tremble, heard the soft gasps of breath, he raised his head, watching her face as she came around him, growling softly when he heard his name on her lips. Afterwards, he held her close, his fingers moving over the curves of her face and body, brushing sweaty hair from her forehead, pleased by the sated smile on her lips and the gentle look in her eyes that were no longer quite so haunted. He kissed her, touched her, loved her, still unable to believe she was here in his arms.

“I’ve loved you since I was thirteen,” he told her softly, his finger moving to rest against her lips so she couldn’t interrupt. His eyes looked into hers, a smile crossing his lips as he continued, ignoring the light rain that had begun to fall. “But I didn’t _fall_ in love with you until these past six months. I made you a promise ten years ago, Hermione, and it‘s finally time for me to keep it, if you’ll let me.”

He waited nervously, suddenly more vulnerable than he’d been since he was a boy, preparing himself for any possible outcome. Instead of speaking, she studied him a long time, still basking in the afterglow of their union, and then she slowly smiled _that_ smile, the one that told him she fancied him and wanted to be with him and didn’t care that he was nearly four years younger and hadn’t lasted five minutes once he’d been inside her the first time and that he was still far too scrawny and not as tall as most of the men in her life. And then she kissed him and missed his lips slightly and it was a bit fumbling at first but then he moved and kissed her back and it was _perfect_.


End file.
